


Confession

by Zebeyithra



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confessions, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebeyithra/pseuds/Zebeyithra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I confess my sins so the Maker might pardon me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession

    They knelt side by side in the Chantry, whispering their way through the Chant in their equally melodious voices, occasionally peeking an eye open to see if they had made their way through the Chant before the other. It had started months before, backs turned to one another and going so far as to choose the other side of Haven’s grandiose Chantry. Once in Skyhold, however, they had awkwardly been forced to deal with one another in the tiny alcove set aside by the garden. With the warming of their friendship, they were comfortable enough to be shoulder to shoulder, exchanging twinkling winks and nudges. 

    Diana giggled softly as Cullen rushed his way through Benedictions, their words jumbling until they reached an even pace with one another. They reached forward, bumping hands as they both reached for the same matchstick. Diana blushed brightly and Cullen chuckled, each reaching for a different stick. They stayed silent as each lit their own candles.

    “Well, I went first last time, so it’s your turn. Confess,” Diana smiled, leaning against the pew. He huffed, brushing a few of the more wild strands of his hair back in a vain attempt to tame them.

    “You could at least try to sound formal.” Tradition dictated they go to one of the Chantry’s sisters to confess, but with the sensitive information they carried, Leliana had insisted they keep their wrongdoings within their own circle. Diana shrugged, clearing her throat before taking on a serious face, the same she had mimicked as a child with dreams of sisterhood.

    “Confess your sins so the Maker might pardon you,” she finally whispered, dropping her voice as someone passed by the door, footsteps fading off. His grin was bashful, leaning in as he replied.

    “I confess my sins so the Maker might pardon me. Today, I found myself unable to concentrate on my duties, making my work half-hearted and half done.” They were silent for a full minute before Diana snorted, falling off the kneeler in a fit of laughter. Cullen frowned. “What?”

    “You call that a sin? Not ‘I stole a sweetroll at breakfast’ or ‘I watched a woman with lust’ or-” She cut herself off, rolling around on the floor as Cullen stuttered.

    “You saw me take the roll? How?” He blushed, a hand on his neck before he finally offered his hand to Diana. She took it, pulling herself back onto the pew.

    “Because it was supposed to be mine, you silly man! Are you saying I was right?” Diana let herself giggle for a moment more before she realized Cullen was watching her intently. When she had climbed back up, her knees had slid against the leather bound kneeler. The result was that she now knelt almost chest to chest with the armor-clad man. The setting sun twinkled through the stained glass, catching the golden hue of his eyes. He gaze down at her hand which lay gently on the center of his breastplate, and for a moment, she wished he didn’t wear his armor all the time. 

    “Your turn, Herald,” Cullen answered quietly, “Confess your sins so the Maker might pardon you.” Her eyes went wide, her cheeks flushing as she stammered back.

    “I confess my sins so the Maker might pardon me.” Cullen waited, watching her lips twitch with each attempt at starting a confession before she finally whispered something. He leaned in, and she repeated in the quietest of voices. “I wish I could hate you.” 

    It wasn’t the fast reeling back of being slapped in the face, but the slow retreating as realization set in of two facts. Diana wanted to hate him, and, despite her previous coldness, didn’t.

    “Diana, what do you-”

    “I wish I could hate you, but I can’t.” Her bottom lip trembled and she bit it, hoping to quell the movement. “I was told all my life that mages aren’t supposed to love. Maker, we aren’t even supposed to have friends. But…” She trailed off, her fingers pressing into his armor as if wishing she could melt through to the other side. “I tried being logical with myself. There’s no happy ending waiting for me, you know.” Diana let her gaze finally meet his, eyes glistening with equal parts hope and fear. “I think I’m falling in love with you and I’m terrified.” Cullen’s mouth dropped slightly open, shock singeing his nerves as her voice wavered, then broke on the last word. 

    Diana rose, dropping her hand from him. To any passerby, it appeared as if Cullen knelt before the Inquisitor, solemn in his prostration. She began to leave, light footsteps hurrying towards the door. But it was Cullen who reached it first, slamming the wooden door shut so hard, the hinges creaked in protest. Diana spun on her heel, instincts kicking in. Cullen simply laid an arm across her chest and pushed her back, cornering her against the door. He dropped it quickly, his hands clenching and unclenching as he worked to understand her words.

    “Why?” He finally asked, his voice shaking. Tears built up in Diana’s eyes, fearing she had ruined yet another friendship with her mindless words. Her fingers itched to run through his hair, to rip the armor carelessly from his body, to trace the scars she saw disappear beneath his clothes. She wanted to take the pain she saw in his eyes every morning, every prayer, and take it into herself. Diana didn’t know how to say it, this deep longing that made her body ache.

    “B-because. I could lose myself.” His response was quick, and she wondered what he saw.

    “To demons?”

    “Or worse.” Cullen stepped in closer, and Diana could see her wide eyed stare in the reflection of his chestplate. She was quick to look back up to him, something in his eyes making her limbs grow weak and her heart race.

    With the utmost delicacy, Cullen pulled his gloves off, letting them fall to the ground before placing his hands on either side of her face, holding her as if the most precious treasure in the world. Diana’s hands jumped up to rest on his, heat radiating from his battle worn skin. The reverence in his eyes made her own close, and she could feel his breath as he leaned in. His kiss was gentle, his scar pressing against her own lips like a reminder. This would be his. Like his hands, Cullen’s embrace was warm and gentle, the same warmth as a summer’s campfire at night. Diana spent an eternity in his kiss, until he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. It wasn’t until she finally opened her eyes and saw him gazing back at her that she blushed once more.

    “Maker, accept my confession. I think I’m falling in love with you, Diana,” Cullen whispered, leaning in to claim her lips once more. 


End file.
